


Wonderstruck (Don't You Let It Go)

by waterofthemoon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Community: fanbingo, Dancing, Drunkenness, First Meetings, Grand Prix Final Banquet, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon/pseuds/waterofthemoon
Summary: My contribution to the "Viktor attends the GPF banquet in Sochi and falls in love instantly" genre. Or, Viktor Nikiforov is a sucker for love and everyone around him knows it.





	Wonderstruck (Don't You Let It Go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ifshehadwings (sophie_448)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/gifts).



> This is dedicated to [sophie_448](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/profile), who linked me to Taylor Swift's song Enchanted and made me have emotions about Vitya meeting Yuuri. And then I put it on repeat and wrote this. Yay! ♥

The Grand Prix banquet is, predictably, boring as fuck. Viktor won—again—which means he has to spend a lot of time having his ass kissed while simultaneously charming his sponsors and anyone else who wants to talk to him. He hates that this has become routine and that the routine has gotten boring—that even winning gold doesn't excite him anymore.

Then Chris brings out the stripper pole, and Viktor feels his world shift by several degrees.

"Please excuse me," he says to the sponsor representative he's talking to. "It was wonderful to chat." Without looking back, he crosses the room and grabs Yuri's sleeve. "Yura, who is that boy?"

Yuri sneers. "How the fuck should I know? I'm not here to set you up." He follows Viktor's gaze, though. "Oh. The other Yuuri. Kat-something, I don't know." Yuri gives Viktor a sideways glance. "I found him crying in the bathroom, you know. Kind of pathetic."

Whatever Yuuri was doing after the competition, he's currently supporting his own weight _and Chris's_ on the pole. His pants are also off for some reason, giving Viktor license to look at thighs he would happily die between. "He's _beautiful_ ," Viktor murmurs. "Do you think he'd talk to me?"

"Ugh!" Yuri pushes him away. "Probably. Go ask him yourself, loser."

Before Viktor can make his way over, Yuuri gets off the pole and drinks another glass of champagne, then stumbles in his direction. Viktor tracks his movement but is still surprised when Yuuri appears in front of them.

"Viktorrrrr," Yuuri slurs. "Viktor, dance with me. No. Wait." He turns slightly and points at Yuri, who raises an eyebrow. "You yelled at me. And I need to—I'm not retiring. So I have to—we should have a dance off."

Both of Yuri's eyebrows are hidden by his bangs now, but he, surprisingly, nods. "Yeah, okay. Show me what you've got. You know I'm the only Grand Prix gold medalist between the two of us?"

"In juniors, Yura," Viktor comments. He knows Yuuri must be a senior skater—he's not sure why he didn't notice him earlier. When Yuri whips his head around and gives Viktor his best death glare, Viktor just smiles. "Go on. I want to see this."

"Yeah, I bet you do, perv," Yuri grumbles.

During their conversation, Yuuri, regrettably, finds his trousers and puts them back on. He then stares Yuri down and starts doing these crazy difficult ballet moves—a drunken version without pointe shoes, but, like, Viktor would be hard pressed to pull off some of what Yuuri's demonstrating even in the ballet studio back home. Yuri's doing all he can to keep up. It then turns into break dancing, which Viktor didn't know Yuri knew how to do.

"Looks like Katsuki, one, Plisetsky, zero." Chris appears beside Viktor and hands him a glass of champagne, which Viktor knocks back.

" _Chris_ ," Viktor says in an undertone, clutching Chris's arm. Chris is Viktor's best friend, as these things go when you spend most of your life competing in a solo sport. Chris will understand. "Do you know him? Is he single? _Please_ tell me he's not seeing anyone."

Chris gives him an amused smirk. "Why, Vitya, are you interested?"

"I—" Viktor's cut off when Yuuri appears in front of him again and takes his hand. Chris waves him off with a grin as Viktor lets himself be led away.

"Viktor," Yuuri says. His breath is hot and boozy on the shell of Viktor's ear. "Viktor, Viktor. Niki—nikiforov. I _love_ you."

Viktor's heard that sentiment a million times, from people who mean they love his skating or his public persona. He knows Yuuri doesn't mean it in a romantic way, but he grips Yuuri's hand tighter and dips him on the impromptu dance floor. Just for tonight, he can pretend.

Viktor drinks, and dances, and lets go of his responsibilities as his world shrinks to Yuuri's brown eyes, Yuuri's body pressed close to his, Yuuri's voice in his ear. Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.

By the time they get to, "Be my coach, Viktorrrrrr," Viktor's already gone, completely enchanted by Yuuri in front of him. _Oh, fuck_ , he thinks.

*

Viktor goes back to his room alone that night, after seeing Yuuri safely to his. He goes back to St. Petersburg with Yakov and Yuri and doesn't even protest when Yuri insists on the window seat in the plane. He goes back to training for Nationals and Worlds, working on his programs for next season in his spare time. And the whole time, _he can't stop thinking about Yuuri_.

He wonders what Yuuri's thinking—what his opinion would be on this change to Viktor's step sequence, what the weather's like in Detroit, if Celestino is anything like Yakov as a coach. (Probably not. No one but Yakov would be so mean as to make Viktor do suicides just because he was smiling at his phone when he was supposed to be practicing.)

Viktor keeps tabs on Yuuri's career as best he can, wondering if they'll meet again at Worlds. Yuuri doesn't qualify, though. He bombs out in Japanese Nationals, and then—aside from the extremely interesting news that Yuuri's dropping his coach—it's radio silence, both on official channels and on Yuuri's rarely updated Instagram. Viktor doesn't follow him, but he checks every day anyway. Just in case of… whatever.

So Viktor goes to Worlds, wins gold, smiles through the dog and pony show, and comes home. When he's back on Russian soil and turns his phone on, he has a ton of notifications, most of them pointing him towards a YouTube link with a Japanese title. By now, he recognizes the characters for his own name and Yuuri's, and he runs the rest of it through a translator.

_[Katsuki Yuuri] Tried to Skate Viktor's FS Program [Stay Close to Me]_

"Makkachin, it's a sign," he half-whispers after watching the video. His dog, the traitor, barely perks his ears. "He remembers me. I should go to him, right? I should—do you think he meant it, about me coaching him? He never called—well, I don't think he had my number, I don't have his—and he stayed with Celestino, but maybe now—"

Because in the video, Yuuri downgrades the jumps, but the way he _performs_ it, Viktor can't look away. It's all the raw emotion Viktor wanted from his own skating, this whole last season—every time he skated this program, he should have been doing it like this.

Viktor thinks about next season. He thinks about the music he can't decide on and the prospect of going through another year like the last one, with nothing to challenge or excite him. Except Yuuri. Except the one sparkling, fantastic night they spent dancing together. He makes a decision.

"Makkachin," he declares, "we're going to Japan."


End file.
